The Pearl in His Hand

I have often mentioned the poet Ted Kooser in posts; from Iowa but currently I believe living in Nebraska, Mr. Kooser was our country's Poet Laureate from 2004-2006. His poems, especially those in Winter Morning Walks, are my favorite reads, and I love to read them aloud to my husband because Kooser's work is meant to be read aloud, to savor the images he creates. Often I find that the poems lead to some interesting conversations.

Here is one of my favorites. Try reading it aloud, even if you are sitting alone in your room. You will see what I mean.

January 9

Clear and still.

Ten below zero at dawn, and the sky
like the skin of a pearl,
nobody warming the pearl in his hand
but leaving it spin on the black glass table
with all of us inside,
right down to me here at my window,
warming my hands on a cup,
right down to a goldfinch, green and gray,
no bigger than a breath,
picking a single thistle seed from the feeder,
right down to a thistle seed.



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